Defying Gravity
by Chasing Dawn
Summary: "I think I was always kind of useless. Bunny was smarter, more beautiful, stronger. But hearing him say that truth aloud, after all he had said and promised me, cut me worse than any razor."
1. Something

**~Defying Gravity~**

**Prologue**

"_Many years I have waited for a gift like yours to appear." Wicked, "The Wizard and I"_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy XIII. None of its characters belong to me. I make no profit off this work of fiction. The lyrics from "Wicked" belong to its respective artists and the creators of the musical. This story is only to amuse me in my spare time and to hopefully be enjoyed by those who choose to read it.**

_The ballroom is crowded with hundreds of men and women, all of their faces hidden behind masks. Dresses of all colors flash in the reflecting light above me, laughter and the clinking of glasses the only sounds that can be heard over the hushed conversation. All the prestigious in Cocoon are here, waiting for something. I look down at myself, seeing fine white silk with the faintest strands of color shot throughout the bodice. I am the only one here that isn't wearing a mask, but somehow no one else notices. Passing men smile at me, their masks hiding their eyes. _

"_Rayne! Come here, child."_

_The world becomes blurred. It is very cold here, but somehow the gun in my hands is even colder. Voices shouting at me fill my ears. Some are filled with shock, others are encouraging, but I don't know what they want from me._

"_Rayne." I blink and the ballroom is back in view. Mother's face is merely inches from my own, her mask hiding her impatience. Only her tone tells me that I've messed up again. "We can't keep him waiting." She grips my wrist, pulling me through the throngs that somehow melt away, avoiding us. When I look back they're all in the same position, as if we hadn't passed them at all. _Can't keep who waiting? _I want to ask, but when I open my mouth my voice doesn't obey me. Every person in the room flows from their position and shifts back like water, slowly revealing the person standing at the highest point in the room._

_I'm back in that cold place. There are people standing a few feet away from me, their bodies blurred and strange. I see blonde hair on one, pinkish-red on another, and the rest of them are shapeless and smeared, as though someone's taken their hand across a painting and swept it away. The gun in my hand is surprisingly light; it's like lifting a feather as I raise it, pointing it at the blonde._

_Music jars me out of that place, bringing me back to the ballroom so fast that dizziness swamps me. Violins and flutes create a simple but elegant waltz, and almost instantly everyone is dancing. All of the masks whirl together in a mix of butterflies, foxes, wolves, and other creatures. The eye holes of each mask are completely black, as though there aren't any faces behind them._

"_He asked for you personally," Mother mutters, her grip like iron around my wrist. "Why, I can't imagine, but it's a great honor. Remember that." The remark stings, but I can't respond. My chest feels too tight, my heart hammering against my ribs. _I want to go home, _I think, but my feet won't obey me. I can't stop myself from following my mother's footsteps, right until we reach a large stairway. "Go on. I'll see you later." With that she vanishes into the crowd, completely out of sight._

_I take the first step, then another. As I near the top my palms start to sweat, my mouth as dry as sand. I want to run as fast as I can in the opposite direction. Instead, my feet continue to move, as though I am a mere puppet being led along, forced to obey my invisible puppeteer's demands. When I reach the top of the stairs I see him. I curtsy quickly, nearly shocked to stillness._

"_Primarch," I say, managing to spit the word out. Galenth Dysley, the leader of Sanctum. I've never seen him face to face before. He is considerably older than most citizens of Cocoon, yet holds himself with the grace of a man more than half his age. The robes covering him are rich in color and design, no doubt sparking the envy of everyone in the room. He rarely comes out in public, especially such an insignificant gathering like this. _Why does he want to see me?

"_Rayne K'adaell." His voice is surprisingly strong for such an old man. "I've long awaited your presence, dear child." He doesn't give me an opportunity to speak, turning his back to me. "Come. We must talk, you and I." What I failed to notice before is a door, which opens smoothly at the primarch's approach. The moment I pass through it I am thrust into the other world. The figures around me are becoming more prominent, some becoming people I recognize._

"_Rayne, you can't do this! Even if he is the fal'Cie who marked you, you're still in charge of your destiny!"_

_The room the primarch leads me into is fairly small. Near the back is a straight-backed chair, made for seeing and not for comfort. Despite this he sits down, movement coming from the top of it. A greyish-white owl cocks it head at me before fluttering down to the primarch's shoulder. _Menrva_, I remember faintly. The primarch's familiar is beautiful, yet there is a cold, clinical detachment about the creature. Distracted by the glassy surface of its eyes, I glance about the room again. I don't see any of Galenth's escort or the guards that are usually at his side. _

"_Do you know why I've called you here, child?" _

"_Rayne, why didn't you tell us?"_

"_I didn't know," I hear myself whisper in my mind in response to this silent question. I shake my head slightly, bringing my attention back to the primarch. "No, sir."_

"_I thought not." He smiles, but there's something dark in that smile. Something sinister and not unlike scorn. "Despite your beginnings, you've made quite a name for yourself. Assistant to the director of Homeguard is no easy feat to accomplish. Your colleagues praise you quite highly." _They wouldn't if they knew how much backing Father's putting into my placement there, _I thought sourly. "But despite this I see you are not satisfied. You intrigued me. That was when I knew."_

"_Sir?"_

"_Do you think I cannot see into your heart, Rayne?" He rises, smirking as I take a step back in response. "You think I cannot predict your every thought, every move you make?"_

"_I think I'm going to go now, sir," I say, disturbed. My head suddenly erupts into pain, throwing me back into that other place. My hands are shaking so hard, but somehow the hand that holds the gun is steady. The primarch's voice is behind me, urging me to pull the trigger. _You are my slayer, _his voice booms in my head. Back in reality I turn around, gasping, unable to comprehend how he could be standing there when he had been across the room from me a second before._

"_I think not," he says, haughty amusement filling his voice. "I have waited far too long for this moment. You won't run away now, little Rayne." I backed up, yelping as pain stabs into my back, throwing me forward at his feet. I crane my head over my shoulder, seeing the owl's talons piercing through my dress and into my flesh. The bird is three times its normal size, its wingspan twice the length of my body. It screeches at me, digging its claws in further. The agony flares, and I can't quite bite back a scream. I feel Galenth's hands touch my back, exactly where my shoulder blades are._

"_Let go!" I wrench myself back. The owl launches into the air, shrieking at me as I drag myself back. "Whatever joke you're playing, it's not funny!"_

"_A joke?" He questions, all amusement gone. "You think to be chosen for this a joke?" He's gone in the blink of an eye. "You are the beginning." I whirl around at the sound of his voice, but he isn't at my back either. I sprint towards the door. I don't care what Mother or Father say, I'm getting the hell out. A shield jumps up, barring my path. I slam into it, feeling as though all my organs have lurched forward. Shaking off the dizziness, I slammed my fists against the shield, wanting out. A part of me knows it's pointless, only the most powerful of weapons can break through shields, but panic has a way of trying to make the impossible happen. "You are a true seed of destruction."_

_My body freezes as my mind shows me the other place, the vision so hazy and confusing that I can barely see anything. Only the outlines of people, and their voices have become mere noise, nothing comprehendible. I know they're screaming at me, begging, but for what I can't tell._

"_It will be you who vanquishes my enemies." Galenth's voice is directly at my ear, his hands again on my shoulders. His thumbs are touching my shoulder blades, his nails gouging into the wounds his owl made. I grit my teeth, screaming as loud as I can. Surely someone could hear me, even through the thick door and over the music? "My will becomes yours." He laughs, the pain along my back growing. Spots form in front of my eyes, and the sound of a gunshot momentarily drowns out all other sound._

_Then I see the first figure fall. Another shot, and another collapses, their hands at their chest. More shots, more figures dying. I'm the one killing them. I don't know these people, but the truth's horrifying enough on its own._

"_My little pawn," the primarch says, a macabre gentleness in his voice as unbearable pain spikes through my skin, feeling as though my heart has been punctured. "It is you who will bring the opening of the door. The Maker shall rise again!"_

_Just before the pain takes over completely, I see the last standing figure in full. Her face, her hair, is almost exactly the same of another girl I know. My finger clenches, the gun bangs out one last shot, and her body convulses. She chokes out a breath, a thin trickle of blood sliding down the corner of her mouth. Red stains her hands as she presses them to her heart. She opens her mouth, her lips forming a word. She has no breath, but I know what she tries to say as she falls. _

_Why?_

_The last thing I always see, just before I wake up with a scream in my throat, is me, bleeding black tears yet smiling the entire time as my body becomes surrounded by crystal. _


	2. has

**~Defying Gravity~**

**Chapter 1**

"_And like every family, they had their secrets." Wicked, "No One Mourns the Wicked"_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy XIII. None of its characters belong to me. I make no profit off this work of fiction. The lyrics from "Wicked" belong to its respective artists and the creators of the musical. This story is only to amuse me in my spare time and to hopefully be enjoyed by those who choose to read it.**

The dream's always the same, and so is waking up.

I rubbed my hands over my face, groaning as my alarm started shrieking out that awful tune Mother set it to. I slapped the snooze bar before flicking the tiny switch that turned it off. Six o'clock in the morning was a horrible time to wake up to on Cocoon, but work was work. There was no way in hell I was getting on anyone's bad side, especially after what had happened.

Shivering at the thought, I got up out of bed, heading straight for the shower. Somehow I couldn't avoid looking at it, even though twelve days have passed since I'd been marked. I stripped off my shirt, my nails digging into my palms as I turn my back towards the mirror, craning my neck to see them. Against the paleness of my skin, the inky blackness of the brands stood out starkly. There were two of them, one on my left shoulder blade while the other rested on the opposite side of my back, on the right. Both looked a little like swords, long and pointed near the tip, though the top resembled the wings of a bird beginning to arch.

The panic swelled again, making my heart thunder in my chest as my breathing became frantic. I grabbed the nearest towel, stuffing part of it into my mouth before allowing myself to scream. Even with the walls being thick enough to deaden any sound I could make in my room, I couldn't risk someone hearing. I know what they would say if they saw me, saw the curse on my back. Somehow, knowing both Mother's and Father's reactions was worse than pretending that they'd be horrified or scared for me.

Stepping into the bathtub, I turned the tap to the right, letting the icy water hit me. My skin immediately pimpled from the cold, a wave of goosebumps shuddering over my body. Each of the hairs on my arms tried to rise only to be flattened by the spray of the showerhead. The water slowly heated, but by the time it turned lukewarm I was almost done with cleaning. It took no time at all to rinse off, and then I was getting out, feeling sick. I didn't know how long I could keep up this charade.

Towelling myself dry, I headed for my closet. There were no uniforms necessary for my line of work, but it was expected that PSICOM executives dress professionally. I pulled out a form-fitting white shirt and an undershirt to go with it, my best black pants, and a tie. Taking out my shoes, I grabbed my brush and yanked it through my hair, white strands clinging to the bristles. When it was finally smooth I threw it back down, dressing quickly. Checking the time, I threaded the tie through the loops of my pants, knotting it securely at the side. It was my fashion statement, one I refused to let anyone talk me out of. Thinner than most men's ties, this one was bright red with blue stripes, the colors clashing fantastically against the plainness of my outfit.

Just as the neon numbers of my alarm clicked to twenty minutes after six, there came the familiar pounding against the door. "Are you up?" Father's voice came from the other side.

"Yes," I called back, rolling my eyes. I took a minute to check my appearance in the mirror. Despite having white hair, the rest of my appearance is ordinary. Brown eyes, oval-shaped face. I swept some make-up underneath my eyes, erasing the shadows. The door opened just as I was about to leave. Father came inside, his scowl perfectly in place. His appearance was already immaculate, ready for a day of running PSICOM alongside Mother.

"You have to leave in ten minutes."

"I know. I'm just going to grab some breakfast bars and go," I answered, forcing myself to keep eye contact. In the past, I was thought to be lying about things because I couldn't meet anyone's eyes. It's still hard, somehow. I fought not to fidget or bite my nails, which were, according to Father's countless lectures, signs of a guilty conscious. He sighed, the sound filled with disappointment.

"Do you need a ride?"

"No, I can get there fine. Thank you, though." _Tension's in the air, _I imagined Snow saying in a sing-song voice, hoping to bring a smile to my face. Father stepped out of the way, and together we walked towards the kitchen. Just that short walk would have made it clear to anyone that there was a metaphorical gaping chasm between us. Mother was already there, taking apart a grapefruit with bored precision. "Good morning," I said lightly, smiling when she glanced at me. I inherited her looks, though I have Father's eyes. Everyone is always convinced we're twins, and someday I'll look exactly like her. I always shuddered at the thought.

"Is it?" She inquired, her icy blue eyes sharp. She pushed the newspaper towards me, raising her eyebrows as I picked it up, scanning the headline. "Hard to say it's a good morning when that fal'Cie is still around. The primarch is probably overwhelmed with the chaos it's brought." I lifted the paper so it covered my face, biting my lip hard enough to hurt. I didn't want to talk about the primarch. I didn't even want to think about anything that had to do with Galenth Dysley. He was the reason I had to strive even harder for people to think that everything was normal when really it was just the opposite.

The paper's headline screamed of the chaos happening in Bodhum and of the accident at the Euride Gorge. All of the details were the result of rumor and panic because the truth was that no one besides the elite of PSICOM knew what had really gone on. If the civilians knew they would panic even more, and all of Cocoon was already up to their ears in worry. I knew the truth of both events, though the latter I learned from PSICOM operatives. The first was a painful recollection.

"_I know you'll want nothing to do with me anymore, and you'll hate me, but I had to tell someone."_

"Rayne." Father's voice jarred me from the memory. "You'd best be going if you want to beat the traffic." _What traffic? _I thought, though I nodded at him. Setting the paper down, I went to the cupboard and took two oat-and-almond cereal bars before stuffing them into my bag. "You have your datalogs?"

"Yes," I said, pulling out said datalogs as proof.

"Your keycards?"

"I have them."

"What about-"

"Father, I have everything," I said, trying to sound reassuring instead of annoyed. "I'll see you both at Homeguard." Mother pursed her lips as she sipped her tea, but didn't respond. Father grudgingly acknowledged that I hadn't forgotten the essentials. I headed to the door, keeping in the breath that desperately wanted to rush out. I took three steps out the door and into the gardens before I realized the trap I'd walked into. If protocol hadn't demanded I stay where I was, I would've stepped right back into the house and slammed the door, lateness be damned.

"Miss K'adaell." The one person besides the primarch that I didn't want to see was standing perfectly straight, his hands folded behind his back, beside the gate that led to the garage. His uniform was flawless, his posture perfect. The only imperfection he had was the scar on his forehead, and even then it managed to make him look more intimidating. "I thought I might offer you a ride to Homeguard."

"That's very kind of you, Mr. Rosch," I said, glad that I hadn't stammered. "But I wouldn't want to inconvenience you. Homeguard is out of your way." _Take the hint, take the hint, take the–_

"It's no trouble at all, Miss K'adaell. It's a beautiful morning. There's no reason why we both can't enjoy it and each other's company." His face revealed nothing as he spoke, remaining guarded. It was part of his station. I knew that, but somehow it hurt me more than seeing a glare or disappointment in his eyes. I wanted to see the man behind the mask again.

"Really, Mr. Rosch, there's no need. I know how busy you are." With that I made to move past him, swallowing hard to keep the lump from lodging in my throat. It had been so long since we could say all that we wanted to, so long since I had been honest with him. It felt as though forever had gone by since we started using surnames to acknowledge one another in passing.

"Rayne." I stopped then, swallowing again. I didn't turn to face him, or react as he placed his hand on my shoulder. "Please." That simple word was enough to send me into tears. I kept them at bay, nodding wordlessly. He dropped his hand, taking the lead. I followed, watching his back and the brisk march of his feet. The vehicle parked in front of the garage was not the grandiose thing he usually rode into the headquarters at Palumpolum, but a simple airship designed for comfort and leisurely flight. The doors were already open, and despite having tiny stepladders, he offered me a hand into it. I took it, not responding to how he squeezed my fingers gently before letting go.

He climbed into the driver's seat, the airship thrumming as the engine was activated, the flight stabilizers and core power processors roaring to life before settling to a quiet purr. I belted myself in, making sure my bag was secure at my side before folding my hands tightly together, placing them in my lap as the ship took to the air.

It was an awkward journey. Yaag and I hadn't been alone together since the disastrous event of my nineteenth birthday six months ago. Mother and Father had tried since then to get us to speak, but I had refused, balking every attempt. At first neither of us said anything, me looking out the solid pane of glass on my right while he concentrated on flying.

"I hear your father is considering making you the director of Homeguard." I flicked my eyes to him, glad that his were focused on the sky.

"We've been talking about it, yes." It would be a tremendous honor, and also an enormous achievement for me, especially being as young as I was. Only Yaag and Jihl Nabaat were as esteemed, and they were actual warriors, not just a computer geek like me.

"What do you think of taking it over?" He inquired.

"It'll be quite a shift from what I'm used to, but I think that I can handle it." I _knew_ I could handle it, to be more precise. I had juggled the responsibilities of being the assistant director for three years, as well as continuing to keep my more illegal practices quiet. Feeling my palms beginning to sweat, I changed the topic. "How have you and Ms. Nabaat been?"

"Well enough," Yaag answered curtly. "The chaos surrounding the Pulse fal'Cie has kept us on our toes these past few days. The primarch was especially displeased when the press caught wind of the incident at the Euride Gorge." I clenched my hands tighter. _That poor, poor little boy. And his father. I saw his face when he carried his son out. _"Thankfully, nothing of the truth came from that. The rumors will die out eventually. The citizens will forget it in due time." _Because it didn't happen to them, _I thought darkly_. _My stomach churned slightly as we ascended steeply, heading straight towards the floating capital. _Eden, _I thought to myself idly, nearly smirking at the irony of its name.

The ship soared over the buildings and homes that led to Homeguard, the pure white perfection that made up Cocoon reflecting Phoenix's light into a thousand different colors. Fountains with elaborately carved statues spouted water as clear as crystal. The few people up and about at this hour tiredly waved to one another, lounging in the lazy knowledge that they were safe. I looked at it all, wondering how such impeccable surroundings could contain such ugliness. Eden seemed the paradise it was named for, but within that was a serpent waiting to poison the minds and souls of its inhabitants. I should know; I was the one that was bitten.

Yaag landed the airship on the landing strip just outside of Homeguard. As the ship powered down, he unbuckled his harness and ran a hand over his face. "I'll take the railway to Palumpolum. That way I can return at the end of the day and escort you home."

"That's not necessary," I said, pressing the buttons that released the straps of my own harness. "I can find my own way home. I appreciate the ride, Mr. Rosch." I almost made it. Almost, unfortunately, didn't quite make the cut when the driver of the airship I was trying to get out of leaned over and grabbed my wrist faster than I could pull the release crank for the door.

"Rayne, don't you dare leave this ship. Not like this," he said sharply. He kept his grip painfully tight, his eyes narrowed into slits. "I understand that I hurt you. I know that what I said was inexcusable, but you can't just pretend that what we had was nothing."

"What we had?" I repeated, incredulous. _How can you say that, when all we had was a lie?_ "What did we have, Yaag? Honestly, the only reason you did what you did was because of the political approval you'd get from everyone in Cocoon!"

"Do you believe that?" He demanded, looking just as hurt and angry as I felt. "Look me in the eye and tell me that's what you've been thinking." I couldn't. I yanked my wrist back, rubbing it sulkily. "I knew it. So that can't be the only reason that you've been avoiding me."

"It's really none of your-"

"_Do not_." I flinched. Yaag had never spoken to me in that tone before. I'd never heard his voice filled with such anger. "Do not _ever _tell me that your welfare is not my business. Don't tell me that you've put your hurt aside. You cared. I know you better than that."

"Really?" I knew I was going to regret what came out of my mouth, but I _was_ hurt. I _was _angry, because what he had said to me reinforced all the doubt and pain and fear I'd tried to hide from everyone else. Now that I knew he thought it too, I couldn't bear to look at him the same way. "I have a hard time believing you, actually. Maybe it's because I know you better than that. Not that it matters," I shouted, "Since I don't have much else to offer anyone anyway!" I slammed my hand on the door release, throwing my bag outside before following it. I didn't look back, even when I heard the sound of something slamming against metal. My eyes blurred and my throat became painfully tight as I stepped through the glass doors, taking a sharp right when I saw the crowd in front of the elevators.

Slamming into the stairwell wasn't exactly part of my usual routine. Nor was kicking the wall out of sheer fury before tucking myself into a ball on the stairs and bursting into tears, but some days deviance was needed. _Serah, _I thought miserably, wiping my eyes. _I wish you were here._

"Rayne?"

"What?" I demanded, my voice echoing off the pristine walls. The man coming up to me started, holding up his hands in a warding gesture. I sighed, rubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes. "Sorry."

"You alright, sweetheart?" Pascal sat down next to me. Already dressed in the uniform of a Guardian Corps sergeant, he looked the dashing, debonair leader he always wanted to. Only the bright pink hair, an accident from a dye job gone terribly wrong, belied this impression. "Your parents getting you down again?"

"I wish," I snorted. He wordlessly draped an arm around my shoulders, hugging me to his side. I felt his head rest on top of mine. Pascal has been my friend ever since I started at Homeguard. He never sneered at me like the others working there, and he didn't treat me like a superior. Instead, on my first day of work he took me out to lunch, helped me understand the computer system a little better, and then invited me to come over to his apartment. I'll admit, when I first saw him I was a little alarmed, but only because his hair was an unnatural shade of yellow. Ever since then, we'd been close. He was the only one besides Snow and Serah that could really make me laugh.

"Come on, assistant director." He grinned when I made a face at him. "Time to get busy." He wiggled his brows as he got to his feet, helping me up a moment later.

"Pervert," I told him, fighting not to grin. "Aren't you chasing someone from the secretarial offices?" He linked his arm through mine as we took the stairs.

"If I didn't have this mess, she'd be falling into my arms," he said mournfully, gesturing to his head. The pink spikes weren't becoming to him at all. "I knew I should've left it in longer." We both laughed. Pascal was notorious for his ever-changing hair color. Just last week it was a vivid shade of green. He claimed that he left it in longer than the directions stated because it enhanced the color, always smiling as people shook their heads in complete astonishment in response to his explanation.

"So how'd she react?"

"Shot me down right on the spot, in front of all her secretary friends." He didn't seem to be disappointed. "I'll get her sooner or later. What do you think, flowers or chocolates?"

"For Mindy? Definitely chocolates," I said, thinking of the small, perky young blonde woman. She worked with her sisters Cindy and Sandy. Of the three, she was the friendliest, though she often went on her sisters' opinions instead of her own. "If you want to impress her, you've got to impress them all." We reached the top of Homeguard, Pascal hugging me with one arm.

"Take care of yourself, sweetheart. You look tired."

"I'm not the one risking my sanity every day. You take care, okay?" He nodded, saluting me mockingly before heading back to his station. I entered through the crystal doors that led to the main offices of the directors of Homeguard. As I passed by the desks and cubicles, several people smiled and waved. I did the same, though it was hard not to glare. Those same people were the ones who made my life hell until they understood that I wasn't backing down or giving up. Once I reached Father's office I sat down at the smaller desk, booting up the computer. As it whirred and hummed I brought out all of my datalogs, plugging them into the system.

Despite the complexity of how they're made, datalogs are simple when it comes to downloading or uploading information. Whatever data I wanted from the system, I would simple load it into a document, and from there that document would go onto my datalog so that I could look at the information whenever I pleased without having to go to a computer. They also broadcast live feeds from the news stations, which kept those who used them informed of everything that was happening. All our communications, administration, basically all of the functioning of Cocoon was possible because of Eden, the fal'Cie lying within Edenhall.

I breathed through my nose, curling my fingers into my palms. Thoughts of fal'Cie made me think of l'Cie, which made me think of Dysley. Sweat made my hands slick. This wasn't the time to have a panic attack. Scrambling for my bag, I dug through it until I found the little blue bottle holding my pills. Popping the cap, I tipped two out onto my palm before throwing them into my mouth, swallowing it down with a quick swig of water from the glass at my desk. I closed my eyes, waiting for the anxiety to pass, all the while breathing as deeply as I could.

"_We have reason to believe that your daughter is suffering from manic depression. From what we've seen so far, these feelings and outbursts she's been having have been going on for some time."_

After a moment the gut-curdling feeling of angst died away, and I relaxed. I drank more water, determined to keep focused. I was already treading on thin ice. I didn't want it to break under my feet. There had been a time when I'd outright refused my meds, convinced that I didn't need them. I used to be a lot worse. Surprisingly, it was working here amongst the computers that I was able to shut out all the crazies inside my head and realize that I needed help. Once the computers were up and running, I brought up the server that linked everything that went on in Eden and immediately got to work.

Being assistant to the head of a PSICOM unit is difficult, but the work is rewarding, if only because I get to know the darkest secrets of the organization. What the job basically entails is this: everything that the director sees, I need to look over first and organize it into two categories: mandatory urgency and things that can wait but not very long. Everything that PSICOM and the Guardian Corps do is to ensure Cocoon's safety, as well as keeping efficiency levels off the charts. Anything that goes wrong in going to the director is on my head. Not to mention that I need to make sure that the schedules for every major player in Homeguard is delivered, as well as being in charge of gatherings.

My datalog chirped at my side, telling me that I had mail. I scanned its contents, went back to the computer and began transferring the files that the sender had requested. It was easy, if monotonous, work to begin the day. At seven-thirty Father came into the office, silently examining my work station, his computer, and the datalogs currently uploading everything he would need into his scheduler before taking his seat.

"How was your ride with Mr. Rosch?" He inquired after a moment. I nearly faltered in typing before scowling at the screen. It hadbeen a set-up. I should have known.

"Fine."

"Did he speak to you about anything?"

"Just about some of the issues concerning the l'Cie in the Euride Gorge. It seems the media attention hasn't been helpful with keeping the populace calm." I watched the reflection of the screen, seeing Father eyeing me from across the room.

"Yes, these are troubling times. To think that l'Cie are running rampant. We shall have to find them as soon as possible in order to complete their Focus. If you hear anything, Rayne, come speak to me immediately." He went back to his work, leaving me to fight down the urge to scream. Though it was hypocritical on my part, I hated when anyone talked about l'Cie as though they were monsters or some kind of lower life form instead of human beings. Before I had met Serah and Snow, before I had been cursed myself, I would have thought the same as any in Cocoon.

My datalog piped up again. This time when I checked my mail I had to keep my face as disinterested as possible. I opened the message, scanning it quickly. It was from someone extremely important, but I couldn't respond to it until Father left for his coffee break.

"Rayne."

"Yes?"

"Who is 'Sad Ci-Nire'?" Father asked in complete puzzlement. I swore in my mind. How could I forget that he could see any update or mail I received in the system? I turned in my chair, facing him.

"He's one of the guys I used to hang out with. He calls himself that because he thought it would be better than using his real name." It was a risky gamble, but I was sure it would pay off. Father's expression tightened, his brows furrowed as his fingers halted over the keys.

"Has he been sending you mail often?" He inquired stiffly.

"Not so much anymore," I replied, my heart pounding in my chest. "Every once in a while he tries to connect with me." There _were_ guys that still sent me mail, wondering where I disappeared to, but I never replied to them. I was still convinced that my parents read over every mail I received to make sure I never strayed from the person I became. 'Sad Ci-Nire', however, was not an overzealous friend.

"Perhaps you should inform him that you no longer wish to speak with him." Father stood, flexing his fingers. "I'll be right back. Do you want anything from the eatery?"

"No, thank you." I held up my water bottle. "I'm not hungry." He nodded, exiting the office. The moment he was gone I brought up the server network, typing in a sequence. Excitement and fear rushed like adrenaline through my veins as the network froze, my hacker code working to stall everything. Eden would break through it within a matter of seconds. I had to work fast. Bringing up the mail, I typed a quick response:

_Cid Raines,_

_I received your mail and the funds for the Cavalry will be delivered on schedule in the usual place. I look forward to the day we will meet in person. For safety reasons, I suggest you use a different anagram. I remain your most obedient servant,_

_Marilith_

The computer whirred for a moment, all the settings returning to normal the instant I sent the message. I brought up my previous work, willing the flush to go out of my face as Father came back, a steaming mug of coffee in hand. He peered over my shoulder, checking what I was doing before grunting in approval. It took all I had in me not to exhale in relief. If anybody knew, or even suspected, what I was doing, I wouldn't be brought before the council of Sanctum or placed in prison. I'd get a bullet through the head for high treason. No one went against Sanctum. To think about it was to be named a traitor.

That fact was why the Cavalry and I worked together in secret, so that no one could guess that there was a true resistance in Cocoon. I was funding their efforts, tapping into the banks of the most prestigious in Sanctum. But carefully, so carefully, that no one even suspected that anything was amiss. But even the Cavalry couldn't know who I was. If one of their agents was discovered and they knew enough information, the rebellion against the fal'Cie would crumble, and I along with the rest of the group would be executed.

A drudging four hours passed before Mother came into the office as well. Father stood, kissing her on the cheek as she placed a pile of reports on his desk. "How was your morning?" He asked.

"Well enough, I suppose," she said with a sigh. "The primarch still isn't pleased at all the media attention that the rogue l'Cie are getting. I've instructed Ms. Nabaat and Mr. Rosch to send out PSICOM troops to every possible location on Cocoon." I nearly paused in my typing, pretending to be engrossed on the report about NORA I was scanning. "At least we know the whereabouts of the boy." _They know there's more than him? _I thought, an icy chill sliding down my spine.

Mother works as a pollster of the investigation department of Palumpolum. Every possible scrap of news or rumor that's ever been voiced goes by her ears. It's her job to discover whether any of the rumors are true, and from there request PSICOM and the Guardian Corps to look into it. Which made my practices all the more difficult to keep a secret.

"Come, we're going to lunch. Rayne, have you received the report on NORA's activities?" Mother asked. I nodded, bringing it up in my datalog. "Excellent. Send it along to my people." She rolled her eyes as I did so. "I still can't believe that we even consider them a threat." _You should, Mother. If anything happens to Serah, Snow and all of NORA will come down on Sanctum hard. They may be small, _I thought, slipping my datalog into my bag, _but once Snow sets his mind to something there's no stopping him._

NORA is similar to the Cavalry except for a few major points. Their group is incredibly small, the government knows about their activities, and they're allowed to walk on the surface of Cocoon. The reason for this is because Sanctum doesn't consider them a problem. For the most part NORA takes care of the monster population, so their presence is accepted. The main reason that no one takes them seriously is because of what their name stands for: No Obligations, Rules, or Authority.

We reached the restaurant, a ridiculously fancy place where the pitchers of water were filled with lemon wedges and patrons were serenaded by a group of violinists. The inside was just as perfect as the outside, with all the glass walls reflecting rainbows as Phoenix's controlled rays shone through them. Mother linked her arm through mine, smiling for the other guests. "You haven't mentioned Mr. Rosch all morning," she murmured as we were led to a table. Father excused himself to speak with one of the PSICOM officers already there. "Your father told me that he had to bring it up. Don't tell me you two are still quarrelling."

_Don't tell me you're still sticking your nose where it doesn't belong._

"We are."

"Honestly, Rayne." She sat elegantly, nodding towards the waiter as he offered to fill her water glass. "The man has been trying, I've seen that much. Why won't you talk with him?" _Because he twisted a dagger into my heart and it's all because of you._

"Mother, do we have to speak of this now?" I looked at her, forcing tears to come to my eyes. She stared back, clucking her tongue before folding a napkin neatly over her lap. She squeezed my hand under the table, a handkerchief pressing against my palm. I accepted it, wiping at my eyes daintily. If there's one thing that Mother and I can agree on, it's not erupting into tears in a public place. Appearances had to be upheld, after all. The waiter came by again, asking us what we wanted. Mother ordered for me, and once Father came back they started talking about something that sounded incredibly dull. I let my mind wander to unimportant things, keeping my back straight and my head up all the while. I'd been caught more than once in dreamland, so I learned the ways that people would think I was still listening.

Our food arrived. I looked down at the grilled piece of fish, the mixture of leafy greens along the side, and the thin wedges of lemon and lime that came with it before picking up my fork. At least the food was good. I tuned into the conversation at this point, knowing I'd be expected to give a response. We were about halfway through the meal when Mother paused, taking out her datalog and scanning it. A triumphant smile graced her lips.

"Excellent. They finally found her."

"Found who, Hilda?" Father asked, patting his napkin against his lips.

"The l'Cie girl I was speaking to you about last night. They finally found her."

"_What_?"

Mother paused, looking at me out of the corner of her eye. "They've discovered a l'Cie in Bodhum port. Apparently some man has been keeping her out of sight. We only just discovered that they are returning today. For what, I can't imagine, but I'm sure the PSICOM officers will – Rayne? Rayne, what are you doing?"

The shrillness of her voice and the stares of the people in the restaurant didn't stop me from sprinting out of there, grasping my phone and searching for a name. Once I found it I nearly broke the stupid thing by demanding that it call his number. "Pick up, pick up!" I whispered, hiding myself behind a row of potted plants. After three painfully long rings, the phone clicked, and a distorted, crackly voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Snow, get Serah out now!"

"Rayne? What do you-?"

"PSICOM knows you're there, they're going to take her! They know she's l'Cie! Get her out now, before it's too late!" Snow didn't answer. I heard Serah's voice in the background, asking what was wrong. I gasped as gunfire replaced her voice and Snow's. Pounding footsteps and frantic breaths followed, everything chaotic. I pressed the phone closer to my ear, hoping to whatever benevolent forces there might have been that they would escape.

"There they are! This way!" An unfamiliar voice shouted. Heavy armored footsteps were drowned out as an engine roared to life.

There was the sound of Snow cursing, the awful shattering of gunfire, and then the line went dead.


	3. changed

**~Defying Gravity~**

**Chapter 2**

"_Something has changed within me, something is not the same. I'm through with playing by the rules of someone else's game." Wicked, "Defying Gravity"_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy XIII. None of its characters belong to me. I make no profit off this work of fiction. The lyrics from "Wicked" belong to its respective artists and the creators of the musical. This story is only to amuse me in my spare time and to hopefully be enjoyed by those who choose to read it.**

I felt like I stood there for eternity before my legs brought me to the nearest restroom. Thankfully there was no one in there, so I was able to heave my guts out in solitude. My heart was pounding so hard that I could only attempt to gasp for air between vomiting. By the time it was only dry heaves I was so dizzy that I couldn't sit up. I rested my cheek against the cold ceramic bowl, fighting the urge to be sick again. I kept hearing the gunfire, the sound of Serah's frantic breathing, and the mere thought scared me to death.

Was that what will happen to me, when I was discovered? Would I be hunted down like Serah? _Oh, no, Serah, Serah, _I thought as I retched. Who I was fooling, other than myself? I couldn't keep my curse a secret. Someone would learn of it, they would take me into custody, and I would be watched like a rat in a laboratory until my Focus was discovered. Then I would turn to crystal, or become a Cie'th. Either way I was doomed.

"Rayne?" I hadn't heard the door open. Mother's voice came right outside the locked door. "What on earth is wrong with you?" I answered her by wheezing out another attempt at throwing up, coughing after the fit ended. I tasted blood in the back of my throat. "Are you sick?"

"I think so," I managed to reply, inwardly thinking resentful thoughts about her. "It must have been something in the food." Silence followed my excuse for a good few minutes. I didn't expect her to believe me. I concentrated on keeping myself still, hoping it wouldn't trigger another episode. I hadn't been sick this violently since my last severe panic attack, about a year ago now.

"I thought the fish was undercooked," she sighed. Somehow she managed to sound disappointed, as though I'd purposely made myself sick. "Do you need your pills?" _Why would I need anxiety drugs for throwing up? _I thought, though panic was actually the reason I puked in the first place. "I'm going to get you some water. Are you alright here on your own?"

"I'll be okay."

"I'll be right back, Rainbow." I felt the tears rise unbidden, and as she left I started to cry. Suddenly I wanted her, wanted to stagger out the door and throw my arms around her. It had been so long since I'd screwed up so bad that she stopped trusting me, and all this time I had kept up my stupid facade that she and my father were the problem. It was my fault that all this had happened, and I was still lying. I still went behind my parents' backs to help the ones trying to overthrow Sanctum and the fal'Cie. _What's wrong with me? I know what I'm doing is wrong, but I still do it. I'm just a downward spiral of destruction. I hurt everyone I touch._

_And that is precisely why I chose you._

Pain cracked along the back of my head. I groaned, clapping my hands to the spot where it hurt. I kept breathing evenly, knowing I would go into a full anxiety attack if I didn't calm myself. This wasn't the first time I'd heard Dysley`s voice, but every time I did hear him it scared me so badly that I had to go and hide somewhere. Seeing as I was in a restaurant bathroom, I would have to make do with what I had. I'd smacked my head against the walls of the little cubicle, hard enough to leave an aching bruise. I gulped air until my heart stopped racing, then let my body slump against the door, hugging my knees to my chest.

"Rayne?" Mother's hand slipped underneath the door with a glass of water. "Are you feeling any better?" I took it, gratefully drinking down the icy cold liquid. It burned my throat, but it was strangely refreshing. "Do you need to go home?"

"No," I replied, placing the glass down. "I'll just freshen up and head back. I still have a lot of work to do." I stood, grabbing some toilet paper to wipe my mouth. Flushing the toilet to remove all traces of puke, I opened the door, attempting to smile reassuringly. Mother frowned, placing a hand on my forehead. I liked the feeling of her cool hands on my flushed face. It reminded me of when I was little, those other times when I got sick and she took care of me. That was always her first step, checking for fever.

"If you're sure," she said after a moment, removing her hand. She shifted her purse around, digging around until she procured, of all things, a small bottle of mouthwash. "Here, you'll need this." I took it, pouring some of the green liquid into the cap before swishing it around my mouth. I smiled a little bit after I spat out the mouthwash. I used to think that her purse was magic because she could pull almost anything out of it. Once she even had a wrench in there. When I asked her about it, she had shrugged and grinned. _"What have I got in my magic bag today, Rainbow?" _She used to say, shaking her purse before inviting me to look inside.

"Your father and I are going to stay for a while longer. Some of the executives want to discuss something important with us." Mother folded her arms over her chest, watching me wipe my mouth with a dispensable moist towel. "It must have something to do with the l'Cie."

"Has to be," I agreed, reaching into my own bag to get my make-up. "Or maybe the Pulse fal'Cie found in Bodhum?" The true panic wasn't because of l'Cie despite what many of the public believed, but of the fal'Cie and their judgement. Though we on Cocoon were blessed to have so many fal'Cie willing to provide us with paradise, we also had to be wary of the Pulse fal'Cie, for they had no jurisdiction over Cocoon. They took whomever they pleased without thought of the strife it would cause to everyone involved. But even Cocoon fal'Cie could be unpredictable. Just a few days ago, Kujata had made a young boy into a Sanctum l'Cie. For what, I wasn't sure of, but it was a clear warning. Though the fal'Cie blessed us, they could just as easily curse us.

"It could be," she said softly. "I don't like this, Rayne. All these secrets that have been kept from us are coming up now. What will this mean for Cocoon?" I couldn't answer her. No one could. Our paradise was not as idyllic as it once was. Anything from Pulse was considered extremely dangerous to the inhabitants of Cocoon, for it was a place of monsters, hell on earth.

Once I finished making up my face into something less drained, I decided it was long time for me to get back. Mother took me into her arms, startling me. "Don't push yourself too hard." She spoke into my hair, tickling my scalp a little. I nodded, smiling. She smiled in return, and for a minute I saw Mom instead of Mother. Then her expression turned stony as she walked out the door. Hefting my bag over my shoulder, I walked slowly back to the office, letting the breeze erase the greasy sweat on my skin.

Serah...what had happened to her? Had she and Snow escaped? There would have been a report about it by now if she had gotten away. But there would have been an even bigger report if she had been captured. Nausea swept through me again at the mere thought of it. Of all the people on Cocoon, why did she have to be cursed? Serah was too inherently good to have such a thing happen. Being the cynical bitch that I am, I had almost expected something bad to happen to me at one point. But Serah? Never.

The office was dead silent when I got back. Most everyone was on their lunch break by now, and for that I was grateful. Plugging in my datalog, I surfed the network for the latest in updates, thinking I'd catch something. Even if this part of PSICOM wasn't devoted to finding information, we could at least hear what was going on in Cocoon. When I received nothing, I leaned back in my chair, putting my hands over my face. I wanted to do something for Serah. Pray, or something along those lines. But I wasn't a big believer when it came to anything religious. As ironic as that is for someone from Cocoon – after all, the fal'Cie are our gods, the one who brought us to paradise and kept out the monsters from Pulse – there were some who weren't devoted to the fal'Cie. Even before I received my brands I didn't have faith in many things.

My datalog flashed, singing out a happy little note. Rolling my eyes, I tapped the screen, raising my eyebrows. It was a video message from Jihl Nabaat, one of the commanders of PSICOM. While my family was more of the executive type, she was in charge of Sanctum's forces, often leading them into battle herself.

"This message is for all PSICOM and Guardian Corps operatives, executives, and administration." Her pale blonde hair swished behind her, hiding how long it really was. "Our investigation into the matters of Bodhum has reached a conclusion. The contamination of the Pulse fal'Cie cannot be contained. A Purge of all people in contact with the Pulse fal'Cie hidden there is to be effective immediately. I repeat, a Purge is being instigated for all those that have come in contact with Pulse fal'Cie Anima. Be ever on your guard, ladies and gentlemen."

She switched off, leaving me sitting there, staring in complete disbelief. A _Purge? _That was nearly as bad as being cursed by a fal'Cie! Purge essentially meant exile, banishment from Cocoon. The only place left to go was Gran Pulse, the place where all the frightening stories of my childhood were born. I panicked for a moment before I realized that Serah would not be a part of the Purge. She was l'Cie, and the rules concerning l'Cie were strict: anyone with a Pulse or Cocoon brand was taken into custody and watched carefully by elite PSICOM officers. Once a l'Cie's Focus was discovered, it was our duty to ensure they completed it, then they became crystal and were honoured forever.

_If it's someone else, we call them a hero for becoming crystal or monster for becoming Cie'th. When it's us, we hide and pray to whatever or whoever might take pity._

Dragging my fingers through my hair, I let out a long breath. I could kill for a cigarette right now. I'd quit smoking because of my friends, but right now I think they'd forgive me for slipping. I felt myself smile a little, thinking of the day I first met Serah and Snow.

"_You know, smoking's a terrible habit."_

"_Yeah? So is sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."_

Snow and I hadn't started off buddy-buddy. I know for a fact that if it hadn't been for Serah I never would've looked beyond Snow's outer personality. I never would've gotten to know what an amazing friend he is. He tried so hard, especially for her. He loved her so much that it overwhelmed me at times. I thought of myself and Yaag and my thoughts went bitter. _That was a long time ago. _I started working again, losing myself in the mindlessness of it. When Father finally came back he raised his brows at all I had accomplished.

"That report isn't due for another week."

"I had the time," I replied, shifting through my other ongoing reports. I jumped when he pressed a hand to my forehead. He waited for a moment before humming softly.

"You look a little flushed. Are you sure you're alright to go on working?" Just like my glimpse of Mom, I now saw a shadow of Daddy, the man who'd brought me to the Bodhum fireworks every year, had carried me piggyback through Palumpolum, and had given me Sunny, my stuffed chocobo stuffed animal when I had my first anxiety attack.

"I'm fine. Promise," I said, smiling at him. He didn't look convinced, but he dropped his hand and took his seat. We worked in silence for the rest of the afternoon, but it was no longer the strained, awkward silences that had permeated the room ever since I had started as assistant director. By the time our day's work was done, I had completed two more reports as well as keeping up with the constant mails, system checks, and urgent notices. Father was smiling warmly when he got up from his desk.

"Are you going to ride home with Yaag?" He's the only one familiar enough with him to call him by his first name. Mother would call him that if it weren't for the elephant in the room concerning our relationship. I couldn't help it, I made a face. "Rayne," Father scolded quietly.

"I know. I should give him the courtesy. He did offer, after all." _Please let me get my own ride home?_ I silently pleaded, hoping he could see my real thoughts through my eyes. But Father wasn't one for emotional tendencies, even with his wife and daughter.

"Excellent. Your mother and I will see you at home." He clasped my shoulder briefly before exiting. I took a moment to glower at my reflection before realizing I was being petty. I gathered my things and headed towards the landing space. Sure enough, right on schedule, he was waiting for me. When he spotted me I could swear he looked surprised, but when I got closer his face was as closed off as ever.

"Miss K'adaell."

"Mr. Rosch," I greeted, nearly wincing at the formality of it all. "Does your offer still stand?"

"Of course," he replied. The airship's doors opened with the hissing pop of compressed air being released. "I must admit, after this morning, I didn't think you would come back." I looked at him then, really looked at him, and wondered why he had to make this so hard. No, it wasn't just him. I knew better than that. I was making this whole situation harder than it needed to be. Once again he offered me aid into the ship, and again I felt his fingers tighten around mine as if he didn't want to let go.

When we took to the air, Yaag took a breath. "Rayne. What happened between us this morning–"

"It doesn't matter," I interrupted, hoping beyond hope that this wasn't leading into what I thought it was. I saw the look on his face and inwardly groaned.

"It does matter," he insisted. If we weren't flying I was sure he would've taken my hands to prevent me from running. As it was, I considered the release hatch and pondered my chances of surviving the drop. "Rayne, I don't want it to be like this between us anymore. I've tried to apologize, but to even get you to look me in the eye is a challenge. Tell me what I have to do to earn your forgiveness."

"Why do you want it so badly?" I found myself asking, my stomach clenching hard. This wasn't going to end well. "So that you'll get your merit points, and we'll be what we're supposed to again?" I saw the hurt flash across his face before he schooled it behind anger.

"Merit points? Do you think that's all you are to me?"

"It's hard to believe otherwise, Mr. Rosch." _What you said to me that night hurt me more than any insult or curse ever could. _Damn it, now my throat was tightening, tears no doubt on their way. I looked outside, watching the fantastic colors of the sky flicker against Phoenix's darkening flames. Even a fal'Cie needed to shut down from time to time, Phoenix being no exception. The true moon would brighten Cocoon's sky tonight. The stars were beginning to come out, one by one, though when we touched the ground I wouldn't be able to see them. We were too far away to ever see them dazzle and shine.

"Rayne, you're acting like-" He stopped himself, but he and I knew it was far too late for that.

"_Acting. Like. What?_" I asked, punctuating each word through gritted teeth. "What am I acting like, Yaag? Do tell me. I really want to know!"

"A spoiled child who doesn't know when to drop a grudge."

"You would know, wouldn't you?" I demanded. "After all, you've known me for so long."

"Rayne." Yaag's voice was controlled and even, despite the sour look on his face. "We have to stop this now. I want to help the pain go away, but you need to let me know what I can do to bring that about." The ship descended, making my stomach feel as though it was floating up to my throat. I saved myself for one last twist of the knife, prepared to say the nastiest comment that came into my head. But the moment the ship landed and I opened my mouth, he did something so unexpected that I froze in place.

Snapping off the belts that secured him to his seat, he grabbed the back of my head and pulled me in for a harsh, breathtaking kiss. I could have slapped him, could have pulled away. I was too stunned by his blatantly bizarre move that for a while I just sat there, my hands stuck at my sides. A dark feeling settled over my heart, even as I struggled against the longing to wrap my arms around his neck and let him kiss me.

I knew where this was going to lead. I pushed away his hands, avoiding his eyes as I pulled the release hatch, getting out of the airship and running inside. Yaag didn't try to stop me. He never did. That was how I knew that he really didn't mean anything he said.

_You know that's a lie._

_Shut up, brain. I'm not in the mood._

I went into the house, ignoring Father when he called my name. I went to my room and shut the door. I considered slamming it, but I wasn't angry. I was sad. Collapsing on my bed, I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. A knock came at the door. "Hello?"

"Are you alright, Rayne?" Mother. The one person I used to tell everything. "You seemed a little off when you came in the door."

"I'm tired. It must be from when I got sick earlier," I called back, closing my eyes. "I think I just need to sleep it off." Silence from the other side of the door. I heard Father's deeper voice say something from down the hall, Mother answering quietly so I couldn't hear her. After a moment I heard a sigh.

"Do you need anything? A cup of tea?"

"I might have a bath," I admitted, the thought of hot water sounding wonderful right about now. "After that I'm going to go to sleep. Thank you, though." The footsteps started and grew fainter before I finished my sentence. _She tried, _I told myself. _You're the one shutting her out. Don't forget that._ I eventually got up and started the hot water, filling it with soap that made thick bubbles cover the surface. Once the mirrors began to steam and the bathtub was full I stepped into it, moaning with satisfaction.

_What's wrong with me? I'm sitting here enjoying a stupid bath when Serah might be captured by PSICOM, forced to find her Focus so that she'll become nothing more than crystal? Some friend I am. I deserve this curse. I'm no better than the lowest scum on Pulse._

My nails dug into my calves so hard that bloody half-moon crescents decorated my reddening skin. I stared at them with a sort of detached revulsion, prodding at them so that they hurt more. I stuck my index finger nail into one of them, twisting and gouging until I gasped from the pain and pulled away.

"_I just want to warn you now. I know it sounds awful, but someone with Rayne's degree of depression...she might be tempted to hurt herself."_

"_What do you mean, hurt herself?"_

"_She might find that physical pain is easier to deal with than emotional pain, so in order to take the emotions away, she'll cut or scratch herself. I'd make sure there are no sharp implements in her room or anywhere that you think she could use to cut her skin."_

_Weird, _I thought, twisting another nail into another crescent. _It's like he knew. _My doctor was smarter than the average physician. He wasn't just there to heal bodily wounds – he was a head doctor, too. Too bad they didn't think of shearing off my nails. They were just as effective as a razor or a knife.

The sound of my phone ringing scared me so badly that I jumped, sloshing water onto the floor. I stood up, hissing as my thighs flared from the pain, grabbing a towel and nearly crashing into my room face first. I scrambled to pick it up, gasping out a greeting. At first all I heard was breathing from the other end. Just as my wariness jumped up several notches, I heard a shuddering breath.

"Rayne."

"Snow?" He sounded awful. His voice, always so light and teasing, was now flat. I sat on my bed, tucking my towel close. Some of the blood had stained the whiteness of it. I shook my head, the dread in my stomach curdling like bad milk. I knew what it had to mean, the deadness in his voice told me everything. "Oh, Snow, they didn't-"

"I thought we were going to make it. We were so close," he whispered over the line. "The fal'Cie took her before I could get her back." He took another shuddering breath. "Rayne, you need to help me. I need to save her."

"How, Snow?"

"You've got access to everything in Cocoon. You tell me," he growled. I closed my eyes, swallowing hard. I needed to think. If they were in Bodhum when it had happened, and the Pulse fal'Cie had taken her, there had to be a place where it was holding up. I pulled out my datalog, scanning it for any news. I spotted something, squinting to read, and then my heart leapt just as my stomach plummeted.

"Bingo."

"What?" Snow demanded harshly.

"The Purge is taking place, which means that they're going to get rid of anyone in contact with the fal'Cie in Bodhum. They're shipping out all the Purge victims by train." My mind worked quickly, thinking of the best possible solution. "It's going to pass through the restricted zone Hanging Edge tomorrow, where the Pulse fal'Cie is being taken. If you can get NORA together, we can get to Anima by stopping the Purge." I lowered my voice. This part would deem me a traitor. "I can get all the access codes and weapons you need. Just be ready to stop that train, Snow."

"They're being sent to Pulse?" He asked, disbelief coloring his voice.

"Seems that way. If we can get the train to stop in Hanging Edge, we can go to the fal'Cie from there. But we need to think of what this is going to mean, Snow. PSICOM isn't going to let us waltz in and out of there without a fight. NORA's going to have to take up arms." Snow was quiet on the other end. I knew he was bursting to say the first thing that came to his head, but for once he was thinking over my words.

"How are we gonna do this, Rayne?"

"Tonight I'll get the codes. At noon tomorrow the train is going to leave. You get NORA stationed at Hanging Edge and I'll meet you there. I'll find a way to ship weapons to you and the others. We have to work fast, Snow. It's the only way we can save Serah and the victims." After a moment Snow agreed. "Snow."

"Yeah?"

"I'm so sorry. I wish I'd known sooner. Then maybe you would've-"

"No." The sharpness of his voice made me trail off. "This wasn't your fault, Rayne. It was no one's fault except for that damned fal'Cie." His tone softened. "You're doing more than anyone on Cocoon would do for a l'Cie, and for the Purge victims. You have nothing to be sorry for." He promised that we'd connect tomorrow, and we ended the call. I sat on my bed, realizing what I'd just pledged myself to. Stopping the Purge was to go directly against Sanctum. Attempting to save Serah was to challenge PSICOM's law. If I was to go forward with this, I would be branded a traitor, and I'd definitely get that bullet through the brain.

But then I thought of Serah.

"_Do I look like someone who needs company? Go back to your boyfriend, I don't want you here."_

"_You do, actually. Want company, that is. You seem more sad than angry."_

"_And just why is it your business, pray tell?"_

"_It's not. But usually when someone's this angry, they're hiding something that's hurting them. And I want to help you with that."_

She's my best friend, the one who had managed to look past my angry exterior and see me. Not the girl that I made myself to be for my parents. Not the person who obediently, quietly, did everything that was asked of her. If saving Serah made me a traitor...so be it.

I had to wait until my parents went to bed, and even as the clock informed me it was nearing two in the morning, I stayed still, listening to every little creak and groan in the house. When I finally assured myself that no one was going to wake up, I stood, checking to make sure I was ready. My gloves were secure, ensuring no fingerprints would be left. The cap around my head would prevent any hair from falling onto the keypad or floor. My encrypted datalog was clipped to my hip. I was ready to go. Activating a separate datalog, I went through our home security network before freezing it, typing in a sequence that would put the cameras in loop. So long as it was active, I'd be walking invisible.

My datalog silently confirmed my action. I watched the camera feed for a moment before smiling to myself. I may have been alright at running a branch of PSICOM, but hacking was my true speciality. Anything computerized or had access to a larger network, I could get into.

I crept through the hallway, reaching Father's office. Thankfully it was in a room separate from his bedroom. I booted up the computer, looking over my shoulder, listening for footsteps. The primary settings were loading, and once the computer was running, a single white word appeared amongst the black.

_Password?_

I hooked my datalog up to the system, tapping in two sequences of code. After a minute of tense silence the screen flashed green before coming up white, Father's files there for the taking. I went to the ones concerning all possible codes for accessing doors that civilians wouldn't be able to enter. When I started loading them onto my datalog I spotted a new file, one that wasn't there earlier. Clicking on it, I scanned the brief sentences there before I cursed under my breath. _That's their plan, is it?_

I loaded more codes, typing in my own erasing sequences after I'd done so. If Father knew I was accessing his computer, he'd want to know why. He wouldn't outright accuse me of snooping. No, that would be Mother's department. Either way I'd be screwed. Once I had everything I needed, I turned the computer off and pulled out the small canister at my side. Popping the cap, I yanked out a disinfectant wipe and scrubbed the keyboard and the desk. I had made sure that I couldn't leave fingerprints or hair, but it was possible that one of my eyelashes could've fallen, or a fragment of skin. It'd be enough to identify me.

Unhooking my datalog and stuffing the wipe into my pocket, I went back to my room, locking the door before allowing a few seconds of panic. My heart was racing, my palms clammy underneath my gloves. Dizziness rushed over me. I realized that if I didn't take my pills I was going to pass out. Staggering over to my bag, I shakily pulled out the little bottle that was my constant companion, shaking out two blue pills and swallowing them. I grimaced as the feeling of them sticking in my throat remained before I collapsed on my bed.

I didn't know how much time passed, but when I got up I stripped off my gloves and my head covering, tossing them into the laundry bin along with the rest of my clothes. I absently put on pyjamas before crawling underneath the covers. I was so tired, suddenly. It was late, but I'd been up past dawn before.

The minute I closed my eyes, I was thrust into the dream. Women and men twirled together as blood dripped down their mouths, the music played as the people I had yet to fully see fell dead from the deafening sounds of gunshots, and as Menrva comes towards me, screeching, her talons stained red, I feel the same pain as the day I'd been cursed. I look down at my hands, screaming as I saw them beginning to shine, the hard crystal traveling up my arms, trapping me inside.

Even as the gemstone slipped into my mouth and down my throat, effectively halting my voice, I could still hear my screams mingled with the shattering sound of bullets leaving the chamber of a gun.


End file.
